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Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Read an excerpt of 'Spring Break'

An all-expenses paid trip to Cancun for spring break? It wasn't exactly a hard sell for Leigh, Eva, Gia and Joy, frenemies from Arizona Southern University. But all is not well in the land of silver or lead. Soon after arriving, Leigh and the girls stumble upon some cartel carnage—a bloodbath of debauchery that makes even their wildest desert party seem tame.

Instead of doing the proper thing, like contacting the authorities, the girls go down the rabbit hole in this tale of sex, lies and bloodshed. It’s all fun and games until they make the acquaintance of Guero, a cartel kingpin who is none too pleased with their newfound lust for blood money.

These perky coeds aren’t on campus anymore, and after Guero lets them know just how serious he is, they make a run for the border no one will ever forget.

Read an excerpt!

The sky was
lightening when Leigh rose, showered, and dressed for the day. She
put on a comfortable beach outfit, tucking a long dress shirt around
her miniskirt, careful to hide her machete in its makeshift holster,
and belting the ensemble. While she had chosen the most loose and
practical garment, they hadn’t exactly packed for a day trip to the
jungle. Leigh was also careful to pack her favored handgun in her
purse, hoping they wouldn’t be searched.

They decided against
leaving Gia, after clear indications from Benicio’s mother that she
was no longer welcome in her house.

“She said she was
doing drugs in the bathroom,” Eva translated, finishing off her
breakfast and quickly dumping some provisions in her roomy bag. Leigh
went to find Gia, who was awake and semi-coherent.

“Take your bag,
you’re coming with us.”

Leigh paused to
study her. Despite the conditions, and the fact Gia hadn’t been
eating, she was still beautiful. Her blonde curls had gone frizzy and
wild in the heat, which only further heightened the pigment of her
clear blue eyes. She looked like some jungle creature, wild and
unpredictable.

“Shower, please,”
Leigh said, “and get dressed.”

They made the trek
back to the bar in silence. If Gia wondered where they were going,
she neglected to ask. It was just after sunrise when Manuel met them.
He greeted Eva with a smile, the cleft gleaming. After a flourish of
introductions, he crawled behind the wheel of a red Jeep, motioning
Eva to take the seat beside him. Gia and Leigh took their places in
the back of the Jeep.

It was slow going,
and there were no seat belts. Each passenger had to hold on to avoid
tumbling out into the jungle. The vegetation was thick and green, the
humidity drenching the group in sweat.

After a few hours,
they stopped to rest. Leigh was grateful for the pit stop, and she
eased her aching limbs out to the side in a glorious stretch. Nodding
at her from the front seat, Eva exited the Jeep, departing into the
thick foliage to relieve herself. She was shortly followed by Manuel,
who wiped off sweat from his brow with his arm as he disappeared into
the jungle.

After both had left
the vehicle, Leigh carefully pulled out the gun from her purse,
sliding it under the floor mat of the Jeep. Gia shifted next to her,
and Leigh realized she was not, as she previously had assumed,
asleep. Slowly, Gia climbed out of the Jeep, wandering into the
foliage where Leigh assumed she would partake of her stash.

Now alone in the
car, Leigh took her machete from its holster, and slipped it snugly
between the seat cushions. Just in case, Leigh thought to herself.
After what seemed like too brief of a stop, Manuel gave a shout.
Leigh only had time to take care of her own necessary business before
climbing back into the Jeep to continue their journey. Leigh’s
stomach told her it was around lunchtime when they arrived.

Her instincts from
earlier were right—they were searched as soon as they exited the
Jeep. It wasn’t an aggressive search, just a friendly one of
necessity, with smiles all round from the men who had greeted them.
After this was completed to Manuel’s satisfaction, Leigh allowed
herself a quick survey of their destination.

It looked like a
guerilla camp straight out of some bad action movie, consisting of
huts and curling smoke coming from several structures situated in a
semicircle. Manuel gave a short, boastful tour, from the meth lab
(Leigh assumed that was the reason for all the glass tubing), to
packets of miscellaneous materials she assumed was either heroin or
cocaine.

Even though her
hunger was starting to get the best of her, and Gia was beginning to
twitch, Leigh felt frozen on the tour, unable to muster more than a
smile at the many piles and packets of clean, white powder.

“Now, the boss
wants to meet you!” Manuel stammered in English, after concluding
their little tour. Leigh looked at Eva, clad in a bright blue dress,
looking more like a beach goer than someone on a jaunt at the local
cartel hideaway. Eva turned, leading the way, with Leigh following
suit and Gia trailing slowly behind.

Their destination
was a sturdy building of taupe stucco, which would have looked right
at home in any Phoenix suburb. When they entered, Leigh felt like she
had walked into one. Flat screens donned the walls, a pool table took
up much of the back room, and every possible accommodation had been
thought of. A wiry young man, probably no more than 30, rose from a
sofa chair to greet them.

“Well, now where
are you from? NO wait! Let me guess, California?” Before they could
answer he motioned to Manuel. “Keys, my man.” On cue, Manuel
tossed the Jeep’s keys to him with a smile.

“Phoenix,
actually,” Eva responded, looking at Leigh to try and figure out
which one of them was going to have the best rapport with their new
acquaintance.

“Arizona Southern
University,” said Leigh, who held his brown eyes for a few seconds
before they settled on Gia. Leigh glanced at Eva, whose expression
was the smallest of “ah-ha’s.”

“And who is this?”
he asked, gesturing towards Gia, still looking like a
deer-in-the-headlights in her barely-there beach cover up and
platform sandals.

“This is Gia, and
you are?” Leigh inquired, still taking stock of their surroundings.

“Call me the
Matador!” he cried, spreading his hands out to his sides for
emphasis. His face broke into a wide grin, which made his wiry goatee
look that more pathetic.

“You’re from
Texas?” Eva inquired.

“Nah, Long Beach.”

Leigh raised her
eyebrows in surprise. The Matador threw his head back and laughed.

“Plain as print
that face of yours, I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“What am I
thinking then?” inquired Leigh, sizing him up.

“What is some
hippie from Long Beach doing in the middle of the jungle working for
a drug cartel?” The Matador smiled.

“La Familia?”
inquired Eva.

“Who else? They
own Cancun,” Matador responded cockily. He whipped his head around.
“You must be hungry—and thirsty, beer time.” He gestured
towards Gia, who let out the slightest of giggles, and she followed
his lead into a generously stocked kitchen.

“Maria will make
you anything you like.”

“Tacos for me,
please, we’re famished,” offered Leigh, as a small, middle-aged
woman smiled and began preparing something that soon smelled
wonderful. The Matador was not one to let silence rule the day. He
regaled them with tales of his prowess in the Long Beach drug market,
how he owned four houses in California and one in Cancun.

“And one here?”
Leigh responded. The Matador didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, not really,
the cartel owns this one. Which I guess means I do, because I am the
fucking cartel! Ha ha!” He shoved a taco in his mouth, and while
munching, stared at Gia, who was only picking at her food, but had
forced down half a taco. Her eyeliner was drooping a bit in the heat,
but this seemed to enhance, rather than diminish, the Matador’s
admiration.

After lunch, Manuel
departed, and they retired to a back patio for beers. Leigh felt the
warm buzz of alcohol as she propped herself on the arm of a wicker
chaise. The Matador brought up the reason for their visit.

“So, the boys tell
me you’re looking to make some money?”

“A lot,”
admitted Eva, exchanging glances with Leigh.

“You might make
more selling yourselves than running drugs,” the Matador laughed,
shooting another glance at Gia.

“What do you
mean?” Leigh asked, peeling the label of her beer. She knew exactly
what he meant, but felt like having it explained to her.

“My cartel,” he
stopped to take a swig of beer, “we also run women. Pretty ones.
People pay. The cuter, the better. You make a million easy that way.”

“For a human
life?” asked Eva.

“For a slave,”
the Matador responded, pulling at his goatee and shrugging. He had
obviously enjoyed his time in the jungle. Gifted with average looks,
his confident personality easily made up for his scrawny features. He
had certainly been eating well, if the paunch in his stomach was any
indication.

“We’re not that
desperate, not yet,” Leigh sniffed in response.

“Why do you want
the money so badly then?” he asked, with genuine curiosity rather
than suspicion. He was on his seventh beer, and Leigh got the feeling
he enjoyed the company of his American compatriots more than he let
on.

“Tuition . . .
shopping,” Leigh replied, which was answered by another round of
laughter from the Matador.

“Fine, I’ll give
you some shit to run. But you buy the stuff from me first, that way
you take extra care of it.”

“Don’t need to,
we already have some,” Leigh replied, downing her beer and reaching
for another. It took the Matador a few seconds, but he caught on.

“Have some of
what?” He asked, eyes sparkling. Leigh shrugged at the question.

“I’m telling you
I have some product. I don’t know what it is and I don’t want to
know.”

“How much do you
have of this mystery product?” The Matador asked, sinewy hands
gripping the beer in anticipation.

“Lots,”
responded Leigh, smiling and taking a drink. “But you have to help
us get it first, we don’t have the manpower. And you have to
guarantee we get paid, after we drop it off.”

“I can do that,
shit, I am . . . ”

“The cartel,”
Leigh finished for him. The Matador smiled.

“How do I know
you’re legit?”

Leigh nodded at Gia.

“Show him Gia.”

Blinking, Gia fished
her private stash from her bag, offering it to the Matador like a
peace offering.

He studied its
wrappings with interest, seemingly recognizing a distinct pattern.
Looking up, he smiled.

“You got it,
baby!”

Finishing her beer,
Leigh removed her shirt to reveal her bikini top. She threw the shirt
on the ground.

“Feel like
dancing, Eva?”

Eva jumped a bit,
obviously thinking about something else.

“Sure.”

The Matador smiled
rakishly at Leigh. “Shit, I should have known when you walked in
you’d be trouble.”

“No trouble, just
looking for a good time.” Leigh stood and began circling her hips
to an imaginary beat.

A few beers and an
iPod playlist later, everyone, including Gia, had loosened up. The
Matador wouldn’t let any of his men in, though his phone kept
ringing intermittently. Leigh didn’t get the sense that many young
women came to this camp very often.

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